The Bet and the Dress
by Alligates
Summary: Arthur lost a bet with Morgana, and now he has to wear a dress. In public. Shameless crack with a hypothetical plot hiding under all the nonsense. Bonus mildly concussed!Merlin. Ridiculous team bonding between Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, and Gwen; set around season 1 or 2.
1. The Bet

**Aaaaaand I am alive. This story is rather old, I will admit, but I think it still wants to be read, so here we go!**

**Warning: this story is mostly crack, but there is a plot if you squint.  
Disclaimer: I admit to owning nothing but the nonsense. **

**No intended slash, but if you can see it and claim it's there, then sure, go ahead, have fun. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Come on, Arthur."

"Morgana, you can't seriously—"

"You lost the bet."

"Morgana, I am the crown prince of Camelot!"

"Yes, Arthur, and you _lost_ the _bet_. Or are you not a man of your word?"

Arthur huffed exasperatedly at his step-sister. "But, Morgana, the whole of Camelot will…."

"Arthur, are you a man of your word or _not_?" Morgana asked, cocking one perfect eyebrow.

He made a high-pitched whining noise, but she was unmoved. "Fine," he sighed reluctantly, regretting the word as soon as it was out. "But, please, can we just—"

"No. Now," she said, holding up a large piece of silky turquoise fabric, "I think this one will make your eyes pop."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Wait, Morgana, what about—"

"Would you prefer this one?" she intercepted, pulling out a gaudy magenta. "I find it would also suit you perfectly!"

Arthur very near started gagging, but managed to control his rising bile in time to speak. "The blue one," he ground out.

The prince's step-sister cocked her head innocently. "The blue one what, Arthur?"

Arthur glared incredulously at her. "The blue one, _please_," he said as calmly as he could, grimacing and turning away.

Morgana's eyes had a dangerous gleam in them. "The pink one it is, then!"

Arthur whirled around to stare at her. "Morgana!" he shrieked.

She pursed her lips, contemplating the pink cloth. "You're right, it's more of a rose, isn't it?" She beamed. "And a lavender trim would look _great_!"

Arthur most definitely did _not _start crying at that moment.

* * *

Merlin caught up to Gwen, who was running through the corridors with a thin strip of lavender silk trailing behind her.

"Gwen!" he panted when she didn't stop.

"Not now, Merlin," she deflected, just barely avoiding running into a wall and turning sharply through an arch to the next hall.

Merlin, however, was never that lucky. He ran straight into the wall, bouncing off and stumbling slightly with a dazed expression, before collapsing to the ground.

Thankfully, the good-hearted Guinevere had stopped her mad rush when her friend fell. She hastily backtracked, helping him to his feet. Her brows were furrowed in concern. "Oh, Merlin! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Merlin frowned at a spot in the air a little to her right, and blinked a few times before his eyes finally rested upon hers. "What?"

Gwen let out a small chuckle of relief. "You ran into a wall."

The young man's mouth formed a small 'o'. "I did?"

She frowned, worry marring her features. "Should I take you to Gaius, Merlin?"

He frowned. "Gaius? Gaius…." He paused, scrunching up his face in thought. His face suddenly relaxed in recognition. "Wait. Gaius? No, no, don't take me to Gaius… hey, I just ran into a wall for you! You could at least tell me why you've been running around the castle like a madwoman!"

"Oh." Gwen blushed. Did she really seem as flustered as she felt? "Well, Morgana sent me to fetch this," she said, waving the silk ribbon a little, "and she said it was urgent, so I was just hurrying back." She frowned again as her dark-haired friend seemed to chase imaginary flies with his eyes. "Merlin, are you sure you're alright?"

He blinked at her. "Hmm? Oh. Um, I may have a slight concussion. Maybe." He frowned, looking around a little. "I don't know. Have you seen Arthur?"

"Merlin, I should take you to Gaius—"

"Is he in Morgana's chambers?"

The serving girl's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. "Um, no, why… why would he be?"

Merlin gave her a lopsided grin. "He is, isn't he?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "So he lost the bet, then?"

Gwen frowned. "What bet?"

Merlin smirked in amusement. "Morgana bet Arthur that he couldn't run around the entire castle in under five minutes."

"What does he have to do, if he's lost?"

"That's what I'm going to figure out," Merlin declared, straightening and walking off in an unsteady diagonal line towards another wall.

"Merlin?" Gwen called.

"Hmm?"

"Morgana's chambers are this way," she said, pointing in the opposite direction. Merlin blinked, swivelling his head from the wall, to her, and back again. He gave a small fake laugh like he'd known it all along, and quickly followed her.

* * *

**Characterization may be horribly off; I don't know. I haven't gone over this story recently. If so, please consider this an AU. **

**Next chapter should be up tomorrow, if I can remember!**


	2. Measurements

**Oh no, there's more. I uploaded this chapter early because I got impatient haha**

**It is late and I am sleep deprived; I hope I do not regret this decision in the morning. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Morgana, no."

"But, Arthur—"

"This is ridiculous."

"It really isn't! You will look _lovely_, Arthur!"

"But _that_," he said, pointing at the offending piece of furniture, "is absolutely _not _going to happen."

Morgana pouted, tying the string of yarn rather tightly around his tunic-clad torso, just about cutting off his circulation. "You need to learn to love the dressing table, Arthur."

Arthur flinched slightly as she pulled the yarn taut, making no move to loosen it. She'd been tying colourful strings of yarn around what seemed to be every body part he had. He knew what she was doing, but he didn't understand the steps to getting there.

"Morgana," he blurted out after ten more minutes of getting mummified with string, "what are you doing?"

"I'm measuring your size. Speaking of which, has Merlin been feeding you too much?"

Arthur's ears turned red. "I am _not_ fat."

The King's ward grinned behind his back, letting out a skeptical hum. "I think it's because you eat so much meat."

"I am a grown man! I do a lot of exercise, and—"

"Yes, precisely; you're not a _growing boy_ anymore, Arthur. You should really be careful; you don't want to end up with a potbelly."

"I am _not_ fat, and nor will I ever be!"

She hummed again. "Sure, Arthur. Lift your arms a little?" she asked before he could retort.

The prince grumbled in annoyance, but complied as his step-sister wound the string around his chest.

"There…" she muttered to herself, holding a large piece of pink fabric against his torso. "That should fit… but try not to eat anything for a little while."

Arthur frowned, bemused. "And why not?"

"Don't want you getting any fatter," she called over her shoulder as she sauntered off to get some more fabric, skirts trailing behind her on the stone floor.

Arthur fumed, spluttering.

* * *

"Alright," Morgana said, holding the roll of fabric up. "I think we have enough now."

Arthur very nearly squeaked at the glaring pink in her arms, but managed to contain himself. "Er, Morgana—"

"Hush now, Arthur. I need to make sure this is sufficient." She flicked a delicate hand at his arms. "Up."

Arthur groaned, lifting his limbs. The King's ward unrolled the soft material, wrapping it tightly around her step-brother's chest. She hummed tunelessly, nodding in satisfaction.

"We have _just_ enough for your massive size," she declared, grinning.

The prince made a very un-princely, whiney, hungry-five-year-old-like noise. "Why are you enjoying this?"

"Gwen should be here soon with the lavender trim…."

Arthur choked on a groan. "_Guinevere_ is coming?"

Morgana smirked knowingly. "Turn around," she said cheerfully, ignoring him. "I need to pin it back."

A few minutes later, Arthur stood still, his arms held out at either side of his body. There was a silky drape of pink fabric wrapped tightly around his torso, with another, longer piece right below, falling loosely from his hips to his feet. He squirmed in discomfort, grimacing.

"Morgana… it's too tight, I can't breathe…."

"You'll be fine, Arthur. Besides, if you had just taken your shirt off when I'd asked, then it wouldn't be so tight."

Arthur blushed, his colour matching that of his attire. "What if someone were… to… come in…?"

Morgana frowned, turning to look at him. "Oh, you mean Gwen?"

Arthur's eyes widened, and he let out a strangled sound. "_No_, why would you—"

"So it's Gwen, then," she interrupted nonchalantly.

He said nothing as she undid a few of the pins, slipping some fabric off his shoulders.

"You're not denying it," she sang.

* * *

Gwen sighed exasperatedly for the umpteenth time as Merlin stumbled and fell into another wall.

"Merlin, go see Gaius," she urged.

Yet the warlock continued to shake his stubborn, bruised head. "I'm fine."

The serving girl was in too much of a hurry to forcefully send him back. "Well, hurry up, then," she said, quickening her pace a little. Morgana could be a monster when she didn't get what she wanted when she asked for it.

* * *

"Now, to the dressing table… and then all we'll need is the trim, and we're off!" Morgana declared.

Arthur visibly paled. "Please, Morgana, not that. Anything, but not that."

The King's ward was unmoved. "Is this still because you're scared Gwen will see you?"

The prince blushed. "This has nothing to do with—"

"You don't have to hide it, Arthur. It's just us in here," she said impassively.

Arthur heaved a great sigh. "There is nothing to hide," he said eventually.

Morgana rolled her eyes, steering him to the dressing table. "Sure there isn't. Now, I think the blue eyeshadow—"

"What?" Arthur interrupted, upon realizing where he was headed. He stopped walking, pushing against his step-sister. "No!"

"You lost the bet, Arthur."

"I will _not_—"

"You _will_. Now _sit. Down_."

There was a dangerous edge to her voice that warned Arthur to be compliant. He sat down immediately.

He eyed the ornate box beside him, wary of its contents, and almost frightened to imagine what might end up on his face.

And then Morgana opened it, displaying a lot of strange pastes and creams, all in different colours, not to mention the few items that looked suspiciously like torture devices of the most corrupt nature.

Arthur paled.

* * *

**And there we go! What will happen next? I don't know. Will Arthur's face be 'fixed', as Morgana would put it? Maybe. **

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. Pink

**And here we are! More nonsense for you all. **

* * *

Merlin and Gwen came upon the closed door to the sounds of a verbal battle.

"—_ever_, get away from me!"

"Oh, come on, you prat!" Merlin's eyebrows raised at the use of his favourite word.

"Oh, you have _no _right to call me that! You—"

"Prat."

"_Morgana_!"

Guinevere frowned in bemusement, glancing at her friend beside her.

"I don't think we should open that door," Merlin deadpanned, looking at her seriously.

She nodded in stoic agreement, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"Arthur! Get _back_ here!" Hurried footsteps, pursued by lighter ones, but just as hurried.

They both stood at the door for a few more seconds.

And then Merlin shot her his typical carefree grin, which she returned, eyes dancing with mischief.

And he flung the door open.

It was difficult to tell who was more perturbed.

Morgana was slightly amused that Arthur's manservant really did open doors without knocking, but she still brandished the rosy lipstick high up in her hand like a weapon, ready to catch Arthur—or anyone else—as soon as they were within reach.

Guinevere was completely red, stuck between laughing hysterically and looking away. She found herself unable to move as she stared at the two royals before her.

Merlin was shamelessly gaping like a dead fish. Granted, he did still look a little dazed, but there was no mistaking the raw mortification in his eyes as his innocence was viciously ripped away.

Arthur… well, to be blunt, Arthur was in a dress. A rose-coloured dress, to be precise, hugging his manly figure in ways a manly figure didn't especially need to be hugged. With various shades of pink makeup smeared on his face.

It took the prince a few seconds to register the other presences. It took him less time to turn red and dash behind the changing screen. Merlin snapped back to himself when his master was gone, shaking his head and blinking a few times.

"What… just happened?" he asked uncertainly.

"Go away, Merlin!" Arthur screamed, his voice slightly muffled by the screen.

Morgana ignored them, smiling gratefully at her friend and taking the lavender trim she wasn't even aware she still had from her hands. "Thank you, Gwen," she said happily.

Gwen forced an uncertain smile, eyes flickering to the screen (where Arthur's shadow was painfully visible, putting his manly curves on display) every few seconds. "Of course, my lady."

The King's ward smiled warmly. "Now Gwen, you know you don't have to call me that."

"I know, my lady."

Merlin poked his head between them. "What happened to Arthur?"

"He's hiding behind the screen," Morgana declared. "Like a _coward_," she added loudly.

"I'm not a coward!" came from the screen.

Merlin, bless his poor wounded head, was still confused. "But what happened to…." He trailed off, making a few circular motions around his face with his finger.

"If Arthur won't cooperate with the dressing table, the dressing table will not cooperate with him. Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, my lady," the warlock said, smiling politely. "I'd say it's quite an improvement."

"_Mer_lin!"

The manservant in question bowed to the ladies. "My master calls, I believe." He walked purposefully to the place where Arthur was most certainly _not _cowering.

"No! No Merlin go _back_! Merlin! _Merlin_! Obey me! I am your _master_, and I order you to _go away_! _Mer_lin! Merlin _don't touch that_—"

But it was too late. The screen toppled to the floor, revealing a very disgruntled Arthur and a grinning Merlin, hand outstretched to where the thin screen had once stood.

"_Merlin_!" Arthur tried unsuccessfully to hide himself behind his skinny manservant, but only ended up accentuating how much bigger—and brightly pink—he was.

Morgana beamed, looking disturbingly content. "Will you help me sew on the trim, Gwen?"

"Of course, my lady," the serving girl answered, still blushing madly, but smiling through it. Might as well make the best of a situation, she figured.

"Can I help?"

"Shut up _Mer_lin!"

* * *

**Yeeaaaaah I have nothing to add to this... thing. **

**Thank you for reading!**


	4. Prancing

**Here be chapter 4! Sorry about the wait, I have no excuse, all I can offer is an apology ;3;**

* * *

In record time, Arthur's attire was complete.

The silky pink flowed off his masculine form with unusual grace, hiding his hairy, muscular legs as it trailed on the ground. (It also hid the purple high-heeled shoes Morgana had forced on him.) The edges and the bust line were trimmed with a fine lavender ribbon, accentuating the many angles and curves of the wearer.

There was a translucent purple shawl wrapped around his shoulders, doing an uncanny job of slimming down his biceps. His large hands, though, were a little more conspicuous than was strictly necessary, but he did have sparkling blue polish adorning his rough swordsman's nails.

His face looked a whole lot better after he'd submitted to his step-sister and allowed her to fix it up. His eyelashes, once pale, were now dark, curled, and considerably longer, framing popping blue eyes. Morgana had (after a lot of convincing from the two servants standing by) been allowed to apply some faint blue eyeshadow to his eyelids. His full lips were a darker shade of pink, almost magenta. There was a brushing of crimson swept across his cheekbones, giving his face more shape and a permanent blush.

The frown on the prince's face, though, dulled down the bright colours.

"Morgana, wipe this off _this instant_."

"Well… no, I don't think I will," she said, smirking.

"I think you look quite good, actually. Makes you look softer."

"Shut up _Mer_lin."

"Gwen? Have you an opinion on this masterpiece?" the King's ward asked, turning to smile at her maidservant.

The poor girl's blush returned tenfold, deeper even than Arthur's makeup-enhanced redness. "I—well, I… the-the—it…." She took in a deep breath. "It looks lovely, my lady," she finally settled for, nodding with a small smile.

Arthur, if possible, turned even redder. "Morgana, can I please take this off now?"

She pursed her lips. "No, I don't think so."

"Morgana—"

"You lost the—"

"—bet, I _know_, but I'm wearing this, so—"

"But you're not done there, you still have to—"

"_Morgana_—"

"I'm not letting you get off this easy, Arthur Pendragon—"

"Morgana, please—"

"No, Arthur. You are either to… go prancing around Camelot like one of those air-headed visiting princesses, or you go up to Uther as his new serving girl and bring him his supper."

Arthur stared at her, completely mortified. "I can't do either of those."

"Is the great Arthur Pendragon a coward?"

Merlin and Gwen avidly watched the heated argument, heads swivelling emphatically to watch the next speaker.

"Which do you think he's going to choose?" Merlin whispered, casually grabbing a grape from the bowl of fruit on the table and mindlessly chewing it.

Gwen frowned at his thievery, but said nothing on the matter. "Well, it's either the people seeing him as maybe… _unfit_ to be their next King, or it's the King himself, seeing his son… crossdressing."

Merlin nodded pensively, cheeks full of food. "I think he's going for his father."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," he said, flailing his arms a little for emphasis, "it makes the most sense. I mean, it's either his future people seeing him as slightly mental, or it's his father seeing him as slightly mental. And even if Uther is King, he won't think too badly of his son for doing… whatever he's doing. Either way, Uther is one man. Camelot isn't."

Arthur, who had been listening to the progressively louder voices of the servants, spoke up a complaint, almost-purple lips extending into a pout. "It's bad enough that _you three_ have to see me like this! Morgana, please, this is… this is childish. There is no point in making me do this. You've won the bet; isn't the glory enough for you?"

"No," she replied simply.

Arthur heaved a great, exasperated sigh. "Morgana, please! Does it make you feel _better_ about yourself to see a grown man prancing around in such demeaning attire?"

"Well, it would, but I haven't seen you prance yet," the king's ward said, putting on her own—and far more effective—pout.

Arthur steeled his expression. "No."

Morgana grinned. "Yes."

Arthur groaned.

"This ought to be fun," Merlin stated.

* * *

"Alright, now Arthur, point your toes on your left foot—your _other_ left, Arthur—good. Now, raise your arms a bit higher… no, no, like this. Like _this_. Arthur!"

"Morgana," Arthur grumbled, "I can't do this. It's impossible. How do you move in these shoes?"

The King's ward let out a puff of laughter. "Oh, calm down, Arthur. It's just another feat that women can do better than men. Get used to not always being perfect at everything."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, _another_ feat?"

She rolled her eyes. "Have men ever tried birthing a child?" Arthur turned red. "Exactly. Now, raise your arms _like this_," she said slowly, raising her own arms so they hovered at her sides, bent at the elbows and nearly parallel to the floor.

Arthur grumbled under his breath, but raised his arms. He looked like a very angry, manly princess trying unsuccessfully to keep her balance.

Morgana tsk'ed. "Arthur, shoulders back!" she exclaimed for the umpteenth time.

Arthur wanted to scream and pull his hair out, but he was a _man_, and _men_ don't do that. He settled for stomping his foot angrily and crossing his arms, finishing off with a pout. No matter how childish that was, it very clearly expressed his innermost thoughts of the moment.

"Morgana, I'm not doing it wrong!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh really? Well then, Prince Arthur, show me that you can prance like a proper Lady."

His eyes widened as she stared expectantly at him. With a resigned sigh, he raised his arms to the proper position, staring pointedly at anything but the people around him, and, well, pranced about the room. It was strangely graceful, with his skirts billowing around him and his short hair almost (_almost_) flowing in what wind came from the window. He skipped separately around each person, blushing darker than he would have liked to admit around Gwen. He had somehow mastered the conspiring shoes, submitting them to his will, all the while trying to protect his vulnerable ankles.

Arthur finished off his little frolic, he exaggerated a mock-curtsey at his step-sister, who was smirking in bloodcurdling satisfaction.

"Was that good, my Lady?" he questioned, voice rising an octave or two as he slipped into character.

His manservant beamed like an idiot and clapped loudly. He looked like he was trying painfully hard to keep in his laughter.

Arthur ignored him, staring imploringly at Morgana from under thickened lashes.

The King's ward raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Well?"

Arthur, taken aback, stopped playing the innocent little girl (it was a little disturbing, after all). His brows furrowed in utter confusion. "What do you mean, 'well'? I just _pranced _around you! What more could you—"

"I _mean_, are you going to show off your lovely 'prancing' to Uther,or to the people?"

The prince paled. He'd nearly forgotten about that part. He turned to the servants for help, not that it would do much good. With the doe eyes and the pouting pink lips, it was a rather nice effect; unfortunately, it would do him little good. He gave a great groan of capitulation, running his hands through his hair.

Morgana hurriedly gripped his hands, pulling them away. "Don't. You'll ruin your hair."

Arthur frowned, momentarily forgetting his predicament. "You didn't _do _anything to my hair."

She raised an eyebrow, daring him to ask again. Her step-brother looked suspicious and more than a little worried, but said nothing.

There were a few more moments of silence before Morgana got impatient again.

"Arthur, don't try my patience. _Make your choice_."

Arthur most definitely did not gulp (except he did, quite loudly).

* * *

**whoo**

**Thank you for reading! **


	5. Eavesdropping

**Okay guys it will probably take me quite a while to continue writing this story, so I'll just dump the last few existing chapters on you (there is one more after this one). **

* * *

"What do you think he chose?"

"I don't know… can you hear anything?"

Morgana had hurriedly ushered the two servants out of the room, giving Arthur space to make his choice. Merlin now had his ear pressed up against the wooden door, eavesdropping. Gwen was standing guard behind him.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked when he didn't reply.

The warlock shushed her with a raised hand.

"—the bet, Arthur! We've been through this," Morgana was exclaiming.

"Morgana, I can't—"

"Arthur, just _stop_! Stop it now. Just _do it_."

"Mor—"

"_Arthur Pendragon_."

Merlin whistled softly. He'd never heard Morgana sound so demanding. And Morgana was demanding by nature.

Gwen frowned in confusion, not able to hear much other than muted yelling.

As the serving girl continued to watch, she saw Merlin begin to slide down the door a little.

"Merlin."

The warlock slid a little further, not seeming to hear her.

"Merlin."

He continued to slowly ooze down the wall.

"_Merlin_." This time, she grabbed him under the armpits and lifted him back into a standing position. He frowned blearily at her.

"Hmm?" was his eloquent question.

"I'm taking you to Gaius, Merlin. No more distractions."

The manservant took a moment to process her words before protesting. "What? No! I'm fine."

"You're not _fine_, Merlin. You have a concussion and _come with me_." The normally shy serving girl could be forceful when she wanted to.

"Oh, come on, Gwen…" he tried feebly as she began to drag him away. "Don't you want to know what happens next?"

In truth, Gwen did. She really, really did. It had been weeks since anything interesting had happened, and even then, she'd had to piece together mostly-inaccurate information taken from some rumours spread by gossiping handmaids, and didn't quite know what had happened. This time, she wanted to be the one gossiping with her friends, while other people walked by or stopped to ask ignorant questions. It may have been selfish, but she wanted to be a part of something. Wow, that was sappy.

But she mainly just wanted to see Prince Arthur walking around in a dress.

She gently motioned for Merlin to move over, and they took their places back at the door.

"Okay. But after this, we're going _straight_ to Gaius."

Merlin grinned.

* * *

Back in Morgana's chambers, the bickering had stopped. Morgana was looking smug, brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Arthur was glaring at her, silently wishing all her hair would fall off as she brushed it. Then she might maybe feel almost _slightly_ close to just how devastated he felt at that moment.

Dear God, what had he just agreed to do?

* * *

On the other side of the door, Gwen was frowning. There were no sounds to be heard in the room. It could have been empty.

"Merlin, are you sure they're in there?"

"Did you see them come out?"

"No, but I mean, you could have just been… hearing things?"

Merlin fixed her with a stare. "Gwen, I am not 'hearing things'."

"No, I don't mean that, it's just, you have a concussion, and, er, you could think that some things are real, when they're not; not that you do, of course, I just mean… you could be hallucinating. I don't—"

"I'm not _hallucinating_. They _were_ talking, but then you wouldn't let me listen, so we probably missed the important part."

"Well, if you'd take better care of yourself, you wouldn't have been passing out!"

"I wasn't _passing out_, what makes you say—"

"You were sliding down the door."

"I was trying to get a better spot to listen!"

"It's a wooden door, Merlin. It all sounds the same."

"Not necessarily! See, some parts are thinner, and—"

Just then, the door opened. The two servants fell through the suddenly open doorway, and the man in a dress who had opened it jumped away just in time.

"_Mer_lin," Arthur chided, a warning note in his tone, "were you eavesdropping?"

"Um, no. We were just… um…." He faltered as he saw Gwen's face at the word 'we'.

"You were just _what_, Merlin?"

"Um, servant stuff. You wouldn't understand." Merlin stood up (a little unsteadily, granted) and brushed himself off. He offered a hand and helped Gwen to her feet.

Arthur raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Oh, _servant stuff_. No, so you weren't just pinning Guinevere against the door, and—"

"_Arthur_!" Merlin blushed furiously, though not quite as furiously as Gwen. "No! God, no. Gwen is my _friend_."

"Then you must have been eavesdropping."

"Fine! We were eavesdropping, you absolute _clot po_—"

"But we didn't hear anything," Gwen hastily added, raising her hands placatingly between the two men.

The prince frowned. "So… you had your ears against the door, and you didn't hear anything? Wow, Merlin, you're even more incompetent than I thought, if you can't even eavesdrop properly."

"Hey!"

"Well, you see, Sire, I was trying to get him to see Gaius because he was sliding down the door, and—"

"What? Why were you sliding down the door?"

"I was trying to get a better spot to listen!"

"It's a door, Merlin, it's all the—"

"It is _not_ all the same."

"Merlin," Gwen sighed, "not again."

An ignored member of the group then decided to step forwards and through the door, grabbing her step-brother's arm roughly to pull him with her.

"Come on, Arthur. We have to go prepare you."

Arthur paled drastically. "I'm already '_prepared_', Morgana!" He made violent and enthusiastic hand motions at his current apparel. "What else could we do?"

There was a glint in her eyes. God, he had horrible suspicions about that glint.

"Well, Arthur," Morgana said, smirking and pulling him further through the door, "we should start with a _name_."

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	6. Martha

**Just a warning: I haven't been going over the chapters before posting them. If anything is blatantly ridiculous, I apologize and blame my past self.**

* * *

"Okay, we could do Artura, or… Arthur… ette, or Arthurine, or Arthurina, or even maybe Arthuretta! What do you think of those?" Morgana asked pensively, pacing around the room.

Arthur groaned loudly from where he was sprawled on the bed. His skirts had risen to above his knees, which was highly undignified for a lady, but like hell he was going to be bothered to care. "No," he moaned, "Stop it. I don't _need _a name."

"But of course you do, Arthur. Hmm… what about Artemis? Or Artemisia? Gwen, any ideas?"

The serving girl cocked her head, a small frown of concentration erupting on her brow. "Maybe… Arta? Or Arthelia? I once knew an Arthelia… lovely girl, she was. A bit daft, but very kind. Merlin?"

Merlin shrugged from his seat on the floor beside the prince. "Martha?'

Arthur made a very loud, very displeased sound. "I will _not _be called Martha."

Morgana frowned in bemusement. "What's wrong with Martha?"

"It's just… it's… no!" Arthur grunted, covering his face with his arms.

Morgana smiled in amused sympathy. "Is that the name of that girl you had a scandalous affair with when you were seven?"

Arthur made a louder, even more displeased sound. "I did not have a _scandalous affair_ with her!"

Merlin felt rather odd. "You had a scandalous affair with a girl named Martha when you were seven?"

"No, I did _not_!"

"He did," Morgana translated. "It lasted about a week and a half."

Guinevere leaned forwards, suddenly interested. "What happened?"

"Uther executed her."

There were two gasps of horror, and an indignant splutter from the bed. "What?" Gwen breathed, tears forming in her eyes. Merlin went completely white.

Morgana let out a laugh at their faces. "I was joking! Uther didn't execute her; she was part of a family of travelling merchants. They couldn't stay in Camelot for very long."

"Morgana, that may have been the worst joke to ever leave your mouth," Arthur grumbled from the mattress.

"Hush, you. We're gossiping."

Gwen giggled at the vexed expression on his face.

"Why did Arthur have an affair with Martha?" Merlin asked innocently from the floor.

Morgana turned to him, smiling. "Well, you see, Arthur didn't have many female friends when he was young, as I hadn't come to Camelot yet—" Arthur let out a derisive snort at this, "—and Gaius wanted him to go out and make some friends in the towns, so he went and, well, conversed with the peoples of his age."

"And what happened? Did he make friends?" Gwen asked, already consumed by the story.

"Well, seven-year-old Arthur wasn't quite as overbearing as his present self—"

"Hey!"

"—so he did manage to make a few. But then they realized he was the prince, or more importantly, their parents found out, so they couldn't hang out anymore. They didn't want the prince of Camelot to be harmed in any way on their watch; they didn't want to be blamed for anything."

Arthur sighed, sitting up desolately. "They still don't."

Merlin's eyebrows raised slightly. "Are you lonely, Arthur?"

"He's lonely," Morgana agreed.

"Of course not!" the prince fumed, glaring petulantly at his manservant and step-sister.

Morgana smirked. "He's _very _lonely."

* * *

**So yes, that was rather short, and unfortunately I have nothing more to offer at the moment! So, yeah. **

**Thank you for reading!**


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